


The Trip

by DeliriousDove



Category: No fandom oop
Genre: Beware, The wendigo is terrifying, The wendigo wants their booty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 09:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliriousDove/pseuds/DeliriousDove
Summary: It was supposed to be just a regular bonding camping trip.What could go wrong on something so simple? A lot.━━━━━━━━💀━━━━━━━━When siblings Drew and Delilah embark on a camping trip with their financially struggling parents, they expect it to be just like per usual. Hot, mosquito-bite filled, and packed with s'mores and scary stories and overall fun.But instead, the scary stories become real.Can the two siblings help each other survive? Or will they fall victim to the monster that claims rule over the forest they'd been oh-so-unfortunate as to stumble upon . . . ?





	The Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I hope you enjoy! This is my first non-fanfic related post to Ao3 so... hope you like it :”) I transferred from Wattpad cuz... it’s shady af. Deleted all my works.. ;-; anywho hope you like this!

{ The Trip }  
━━━━━━━━💀━━━━━━━━

| "YOU SHOULDN'T BE SO SCARED." 

"They feed on fear." 

Delilah glared up at her brother, shoving him away. "Ha ha ha, really funny, Drew," she snapped. "You're so immature." He stuck his tongue out at her, falling down onto the log beside her. "Immature? I prefer the term — imaginative." Drew grinned, and Delilah rolled her eyes. "In your dreams." She turned away from him, feeling cross. 

"Oh come on. You gonna pout through the whole trip?"

Delilah looked back at her brother. "No. I'm not even pouting. Shut up." She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "You just know I hate it when you try scaring me." Drew huffed. "Yeah — 'cuz it works." He smirked, and she waved him off, walking away. 

"Where are you going?" He called after her. "To find Mom and Dad. They aren't as annoying as you," she replied over her shoulder. He cursed under his breath, and jogged to catch up with her. "Well, you can't just leave me alone," he complained. "Now whose the scared one?" She quipped back sarcastically, smirking to herself. 

"Still not me," he answered. Delilah didn't bother replying. She knew her parents had gone to collect firewood, but it was taking them much longer than what should be normal. She sighed, trying to squish and quench the inklings of worry she felt blossoming in her chest. It was probably nothing; she just had a tendency to overreact.

"You think they're off banging somewhere? Collecting firewood doesn't normally take this long, you know." Her brother wondered aloud, smirking widely. His blatant statement made Delilah's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing red. "Drew!" She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. "Don't say stuff like that," she hissed. He chuckled. "Why? It's true." He shrugged carelessly, and Delilah wanted to wring his neck. What a pervert! 

"Uh huh." She turned a corner, pushing branches and leaves out of her way. "Now that I think about it, we've probably stepped through a ton of poison ivy by now," she murmured. "Joy. A nice rash will definitely have all the girls flocking on over to me," Drew replied breezily. Delilah shot him a 'really?' look but didn't bother to answer him.

"Mom! Dad!" She cupped her hands around her mouth, starting to shout. 

She was getting tired of searching and gaining no results. If her parents really were doing what Drew said — gross, but at least they'd have time to recover and find their children. She was growing impatient. She missed them, hating to be so clingy but Drew was itching on her last nerve. Besides, night was growing closer, and she was hungry. She could feel her stomach grumbling, a low growl that bounced through her.

She took a deep breath, getting ready to yell again when Drew stopped her. A serious look appeared on his face, and he was clinging tightly onto her wrist. "Delilah," his tone was stern. "Shut up." She raised an eyebrow, but listened and didn't scream. "Why?" She demanded. "We need to find Mom and Dad, so we might as well call out."

"Have you seen no horror movies? And I know you have, we watch them together you idiot, so don't even try to lie." Drew grumbled. "Each time someone, especially a scaredy girly-girl like you, calls out — they get fucking gutted. Doesn't matter when or where, they just do. The dumb bloke who yells 'hello?' when they obviously shouldn't, yeah — that's you right now. You need to be quiet. We can find Mom and Dad silently." 

Delilah frowned. "But we aren't in a horror movie, Drew," she pointed out. "These are just camp grounds." Drew shook her shoulders a little earnestly. "No, Delilah, they're not," he snapped. She blinked with surprise, and he went on. "In case you didn't notice, there were no signs when we pulled up to this damned forest. No trails, either. We had to make our own. When we set up camp, Mom and Dad told us not to wander too far, because they don't want us getting lost. Why? Because this isn't a campground. There's no pathways or signs or anything to lead us. No civilization. Definitely no cell phone service. So — I really wouldn't be shocked if we died here." 

Delilah was starting to grow freaked out — just a bit — and she gulped past the lump in her throat. "But — but — why would Mom and Dad take us somewhere that's not an actual campground?" She asked. Her voice was pitifully small, her head trying to wrap around everything. It wasn't like she hadn't been in the middle of a forest before, but she'd been comforted knowing other people and campers were around her. She wasn't alone, not always. But here, finding out they really were alone — it was scary. 

"Because, Delilah. Haven't you figured out we're short on money? We can barely pay bills and rent. Dad is working his ass off all the damned time, Mom is juggling two jobs, even I have to start working my ass off babysitting and mowing people's lawns. It's not easy to maintain this life. Expenses are piling up. We haven't eaten out in ages, seen a movie in months, gone on a vacation in over a year. When we go shopping, we don't get as many groceries as we used to. We don't eat as much as we used to. And that's just the facts. They haven't said anything, but I know that they're stressing out." 

"They probably needed a break. Mom got her weekend off finally, and Dad for once got a vacation. They wanted to go out, and for the first time in ages, just relax. So they chose to go camping, like we used to. But settling on campgrounds and staying for days costs money, money we can't afford to lose. So to save it, they brought us to the regular woods, and I guess we're just winging it and doing it old school, to save us from expenses." Drew took a deep breath, like everything he'd said had tired him. 

Delilah took it all in, her eyes as wide as saucers. She knew she wasn't as observant or attentive as her brother, but she didn't think she could ever let something as important as this slip up. Sure, she'd noticed small things, but she hadn't read into it as much as Drew did. She'd brushed it off, and continued living in her bubble. Maybe that was her problem. She felt guilt consume her. She should have paid more attention; then, she could have helped her parents out like Drew was. Done more . . . 

Biting her lip, she felt regret wash over her in waves. She glanced up at Drew; he was staring at her. "I didn't know," she said, her voice feeble. "I should've . . . I should have. I'm just really stupid." She rubbed the back of her neck, and before Drew could respond, she continued. "I feel so bad. I thought you were only doing those things to have enough money to buy your own video games and electronics. I didn't know . . ." 

Drew sighed, and he shook his head. "I know you didn't know, Delilah. And no one wanted to tell you, either. I wasn't going to, and neither were Mom and Dad. They wanted to pretend everything was still okay, and I wasn't going to rain on their parade. I also didn't want to upset you. But — but I just figured, right now, you should know." 

Delilah nodded slowly. "Yeah . . ." She hesitated. "Are you only telling me because you actually think we'll die? What's with all this doom talk?" She swallowed past her fear, staring up at her brother. She wanted honest answers, especially if her brother was legitimately concerned for their safety. Truthfully, she'd thought everything had been fine in this forest. She hadn't realized her brother was feeling all kinds of anxiety here.

Then again, she didn't notice a lot of things. 

"I don't know." Her brother heaved a heavy sigh. "I just — have this bad gut feeling. As soon as we pulled up to this place, I didn't like it. I don't know why, but something about it just — doesn't sit well with me. That's probably different for you, though. I think it's just me, and my silly paranoia. I just don't approve of you screaming and shouting when predatory animals could be near, and we can't easily access a hospital. Or help. Internet doesn't really work here, so calling 911 won't necessarily be easy." 

"Yeah — I . . . I get it." Delilah was unsettled that her usually outgoing and enthusiastic brother was being cautious. "So — by predatory animals — wolves, cougars, and bears, right?" She peered up at him, and he nodded. "Yeah. Bears will attack if we're on their territory and get too close to their cubs or den. Wolves — I don't know. I think if we disturb their pack, or pups? And cougars . . . I think if we leave our backs to them, they'll ambush us. So we need to pay super close attention." 

"Okay. I didn't think wild animals really attacked humans," Delilah admitted. "I never thought they would. Animals are much more docile than people. They don't murder in cold blood or for sport. They just do it to survive." She frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "People, though . . . They do it for fun. For enjoyment. People can be sick and demented and twisted." She faltered, swallowing. "Like that — that guy." 

"That guy?" Drew raised his brow, then blinked in realization. "Oh. The one who locked his wife and daughter in the basement and—" he stopped talking, his face filled with disgust. "Yeah, I know." He shuddered visibly, and Delilah kicked at a rock. "I can never imagine Dad doing something like that to us," she said honestly. "No one does," Drew added softly. Delilah glanced over at him and frowned. "Yeah. But our Dad, he's just a gentle giant. He'd never hurt a fly. That's why — we really need to find him, and Mom." Delilah chewed her lip, and Drew nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I promise, we will."

Delilah nudged him playfully. "You know, I'm starving. Maybe I should eat you." She grinned, and Drew laughed. "Shut up. You'd never be able to catch me, let alone cook me." He stuck his tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay, smart aleck." 

They wandered around the forest together, and Drew marked their trail by breaking twigs and branches, and forming them into a triangle. Delilah helped him, not wanting to get lost here. Drew had creeped her out. She didn't want to become prey to a bear. She loved animals, but she didn't necessarily fancy becoming their next juicy meal . . .

"Dammit." They had been walking for a while when Drew suddenly cursed. He grabbed Delilah's hand, and she jumped, caught off-guard. "What is it?" She looked up at him, and he began tugging her away. She stumbled after him, following him down the makeshift pathway they'd created. "We need to go," was all he said. She felt a chill ripple down her spine. They were retreating; why? If Drew had noticed something, an animal, shouldn't they face it? Survival tips 101: never leave your back to a predator. 

"Why?" She whispered. He glanced down at her, shaking his head. "It's getting dark out, and we need to get back at our camp before then. No way will we get caught out here in the middle of the woods in pitch-blackness." Delilah fiddled with her coat pockets with her free hand. "You know I brought a flashlight," she reminded him. Drew scoffed. "That won't help," he retorted. "We are only going out during the day." 

"Okay, okay." Delilah sighed, and trailed after her brother. He led the way like he knew exactly what he was doing, which he probably did. He marched ahead with a sort of certainty Delilah wished she could acclaim. She knew she wouldn't, though. She was destined to scamper around in Drew's shadow, trying to mimic his every movement. 

Clearing her thoughts, Delilah focused simply on returning to their tent. Her feet were tired, the soles bruised up and aching. She'd probably have tons of blisters, and mosquito bites. She swatted one away from her face, hearing it buzzing incessantly in her ears. She squinted, and tried to think that soon, she'd be back home in the city . . . 

By the time they reached their camp, the sun had set. 

The sky was a pretty, brilliant reddish color that faded into black. Delilah sat down on a log, watching it in fascination. Stars were beginning to appear, speckling the night with glimmers and sparkles. It was so much different from the city, where clouds and smoke and fumes polluted the sky and obscured any stars and constellations, even the moon. The hustle-and-bustle life didn't provide much scenery or serenity like here did. 

She closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. A breeze ruffled her hair, causing it to spill out all around her. She didn't bother brushing it from her face. She felt the prick of some kind of bug biting her, but didn't move to smack it away. She was lost in the moment, trying to just — 'be one with nature' like all of the documentaries talked about. 

"What are you doing? Come on, get in the tent." 

"Coming." Delilah's eyes flew open. The sun had completely set, now. She slipped into the tent with Drew, and he closed the zipper behind her. It wasn't exactly secure, but it was the best thing they had. He reached over her, grabbing onto his bag and fishing out the lantern he'd brought. He twisted a knob, and the tent erupted with a dim glow. 

Delilah took off her shoes, not wanting to track dirt into the tent. Plus, her feet were killing her. Drew copied her actions, and the two tucked their sneakers into the corner. She yawned, stretching, and sighed. She looked over at her brother, and wondered if he could tell how tired and worried she was. They locked eyes, and she saw Drew frown. 

"Do you think — Mom and Dad are okay?" She whispered. The tent next to theirs was dark and abandoned, no signs of life within. That was meant to be their parents' — but it didn't really work when no one used it. Technically, one of the siblings could use it to create more space between them. But . . . Delilah didn't want to be alone. She didn't think Drew wanted to, either. They were both ridden with worry for their parents . . . 

Their car was parked back on the gravel road way back past the trees, the only sign of civilization throughout the whole place. It was three or four miles away. They'd left it there since they didn't want to ruin the forest by driving over greenery, and potentially animals. Now, that seemed like a mistake. Delilah didn't want to have to walk, or run, all that way to the car. Plus — her father had the keys. He'd kept them in his pocket. 

"I'm sure they are." Drew's voice broke her from her thoughts. She looked over at him, and he smiled at her. "They're not stupid," he said. "They probably hunkered down somewhere. Kissing and crap. I'm sure they'll come back for us, first thing in the morning." He seemed genuinely confident, and that helped to greatly ease her fears. 

Still, it wasn't like them to just — disappear. They probably got turned around somewhere, knowing them. But they'd get back. They were resourceful and observant, it's where Drew got it from. They'd return, and they'd all hug and finally make that damn fire. Make some s'mores, tell stories — it'd be just like any other camping trip. 

Delilah heard her stomach rumble, painfully loudly. She blushed, and looked over at Drew. He seemed to have heard it. He reached over, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a few snacks, tossing them onto the ground. She grinned. "You came prepared," she said, satisfied. "Yeah. I thought I'd just chow down on this while you all ate Mom's gross beans and organic shit," Drew said, and Delilah was for once grateful her brother was sneaky and conniving and always thinking ahead. She smiled slightly.

She opened a pack of beef jerky, and took a bite. It tasted like the best thing she'd had in years. That was probably just because she was beyond ravenous. She scooted closer to her brother, rubbing her hands together. "Brr." Now that night had fallen, it was definitely getting colder. It was late into the summer, closer to autumn now, and a real chill was settling down. Leave it to Canada to have freezing cold nights in summer . . . 

"We should've done something like going to the beach," she complained. Drew chuckled, swallowing some chips. "You think?" He sighed, and tossed an arm around her. "It'll get hotter once the sun comes back out," he reassured her. She leaned into him, frowning. "I hope so." She fiddled with her fingers anxiously, taking another bite of jerky. "We have food and blankets, and it's still cold. Mom and Dad must be freezing and starving. I feel so bad — we should have just all gone out together," she said sadly. 

"Hey, stop thinking like that," Drew scolded. "Just relax. Stop worrying." He shoved some chocolate and marshmallows towards his sister, a sign of great affection from him. He was offering her his sweets. She smiled, feeling much better. If Drew was reassuring her like this, then she had to stop being anxious. It had to be okay. It had to. 

She started eating some chocolate and marshmallows, sharing some with her brother. She leaned against him, and continued eating junk until she felt full. She knew she'd get hungry again later, but she could address that when the time came. Right now, she was content. And really, really exhausted. They'd been searching almost all evening. 

Slumping down, she didn't even pull a blanket onto herself before she passed out. 

Drew did it for her, draping her with a blanket. She snuggled into it, curling up closer to him in the process. He smiled slightly, patting her head, and cleaned up all the food. He didn't want to attract any animals . . . He put everything back into his bag, closed up tight. He then laid down, and shut off the lantern. Complete darkness broke out. 

He closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep. 

━━━━━━━━💀━━━━━━━━

Delilah awoke to an awful sound. 

Her eyes flew open, but for some reason, she didn't move. It was like every inch of her body was telling her to just stay still. And of course, she listened. She remained rigid, every bone and muscle perfectly tensed and poised. Her eyes slowly slid towards her right, where her brother lay. She realized — he was awake, too, and looked stricken. 

So they'd both heard it . . . 

It had been terrible — unlike anything Delilah had heard before. It wasn't the roar of a bear, which was loud and scary yet strangely majestic at the same time. It wasn't the sweet, eerie howl of a wolf or coyote. It wasn't the yipping of a fox, or the growling of a badger. It wasn't the hoot of an owl. The squealing of a mouse. It wasn't the snarls and roars of a cougar or a bobcat. No — no, this . . . Strayed far from anything real . . . 

It sounded made-up, like something they'd use for Sci-Fy movies, to play for an alien or even a dinosaur. It just wasn't natural. It was so out-of-this-world, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to stand up. Her heart was pounding rhythmically against her chest — bad-ump, bad-ump, bad-ump. She feared the creature could hear it. 

There it was — again. The sound erupted, and she flinched. 

Drew glared at her, clearly telling her without words to stay the hell still. She felt guilt consume her, and remained as perfectly comatose as humanely possible. Her mind flit to her parents, out there somewhere without the somewhat-safety of a shelter. She felt her chest tightening with worry, but tried to remember what Drew said. They were alright. They had to be alright. There was no other option but for them to be alright. 

The sound reached her ears again. It seemed like . . . It was growing closer. Even in the dark lighting of the tent, she could somewhat make out Drew's facial expressions. When he glared at her, when his brow creased with stress and worry, when his lips pursed with fear . . . She felt a bead of sweat roll down her face, down onto her chin. 

The chilling sound shook her, to her bones. It was a mixture of a roar and a howl. It echoed throughout the trees, the tent, her whole body and soul. It was painfully eerie yet somehow, serene. But overall, the terrifying factors it carried with it outweighed everything else. These noises belonged to a creature that humans might not even know.

Bigfoot? She wondered deliriously. 

Her thoughts completely froze, hanging suspended when she heard footsteps. She had to forcefully choke down her whimper. The heavy falls of feet — or paws? — reached her ears and made her weak. It was close. Excruciatingly close. It was here. She could hear loud breathing, rough and ragged and malicious. If she listened close enough, she could even hear the soft sounds of clicking — maybe claws? In the distance, there was a light dripping. She wanted to recoil. What could possibly be dripping off that thing? 

Delilah realized she was trembling, and she tried to make herself stop, but she couldn't. She was just too scared. It was something she did when terrified — she shook. When she got called into the principal's office, when she got a bad marking period grade, when her father once got into a car accident. She shook. And she shook. 

She was only fifteen. She didn't think it was fair to get the life scared out of her like this. She didn't think it was fair to get separated from her parents in the middle of nowhere, with the car far away and the keys somewhere they didn't know. With cell phone service close to none, communication completely dead. She didn't think it was fair she'd been lying and lying to herself, saying it'd all be alright when clearly it —

It wasn't. 

Closing her eyes, she jumped when something slammed against the tent. This time, she couldn't stifle her nose of fear. A whine slipped past her lips, which she'd bit down on so hard, she'd drawn blood. She felt Drew's hand slap onto her mouth, trying to silence her. She shuffled closer to him, as close as she could get, and felt tears brimming in her eyes. Whatever this thing was, she didn't want to get eaten by it.

Opening her eyes, she saw something dark on top of the tent. It was different than the other shades, it just looked — weird. Her brow furrowed, and she blinked away her tears. Silence had completely enveloped the area, and she wondered if the creature had left. She felt her shoulders sag with relief, and she went to try and calm herself when—

That roaring howl shook the whole tent, fiercely close and here now. And Delilah didn't bother trying to quiet herself. It knew they were there, it knew! She screamed, and Drew pinched her, clearly trying to tell her to shut up, but she didn't see a point. Why would they try to be stealthy when the thing knew they were there? It was, it was—

It was just . . . Toying with them. 

At once, a loud tearing sound erupted, and Drew jumped up. He tugged on his shoes without tying them, and Delilah hurriedly copied his actions. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulders and snatching up the lantern, all in one second. He grabbed Delilah's hand with his free one, squeezing so tight she'd thought it'd break. She clung onto him for dear life, looking up and seeing two glowing eyes staring at her.

She cried out, and Drew fumbled with the tent, unzipping it and they spilled outside. He turned on the lantern to see where they were going — what was attacking them — and she glanced back, her eyes wide and her heart racing impossibly fast. Her gaze locked onto something completely horrifying, and she couldn't even see all of it clearly.

There, beside the tent, was a monster. 

It towered completely over the tent, with huge long limbs and a broad body. It turned to look at the siblings, and she almost gagged. It seemed to be wearing a deer skull, with huge long antlers that looked sharper than any knife she knew existed. It had glowing yellow eyes, which seemed more sinister than red eyes could ever be. Even though she squinted, she saw no head or face within that skull mask — just emptiness. Was there even anything in there at all? She felt her throat closing up. 

Its body was completely hairless, instead replaced with pale, sickly looking gray skin. It was like this creature was ill, but it certainly didn't act like it. It looked impossibly strong, and when it opened its mouth, its jaw detached from the skull of the deer into a sickening roar. Hundreds of razor-sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight, and four humongous fangs glimmered, deadliest of all — and they glistened red with — blood. 

Her eyes darted to the tent, to what she'd seen hit it — and she bit back a scream. 

She'd caught a quick glance of it, ever so fleetingly, but she'd seen it. 

A severed leg. 

It all happened within seconds. Before she could properly react, Drew was pulling her off into the forest. She ran after him, and together the two fled. The siblings raced through the forest, shoving branches and foliage out of their way like madmen. Delilah almost tripped over a tree root in her haste, but she wouldn't dare twist her ankle and let herself die. Her brother die. Not like that. She was determined; they had to live . . . !

She panted, her breaths coming in wheezes, and tried to quiet down. She could barely see past her tears, and she sniffled, snot threatening to spill from her nose. Her brother made a sharp right turn, and she staggered after him. He led her towards what looked to be a cave, and she hurried after him. The lantern only illuminated so much; who knew what could be lurking in the shadows? She could hear the thing chasing after them, another creepy howl billowing from it. It was probably enjoying the chase. 

She didn't know where it was coming from, or when it would arrive, but she knew it would. "What are we gonna do?" She sobbed, speaking for the first time. Drew glanced over at her, clearly terrified and stressed. "I don't know," he admitted, and for the first time, even her older brother was at a loss for what the hell they should do . . . 

"Into the caves," he grunted. "Maybe — it won't follow us in." 

It was a useless idea, but all they had. Drew yanked her forcefully inside the cave, and together they scurried down the damp surface towards the darkness within. They squeezed past stone pathways and corridors, and even had to climb up a rocky outcrop. Eventually, they stopped moving, and Drew hurriedly shut off the lantern. 

The floor had been wet and muddy, and he'd snapped at her to rub the mud all over herself. She'd listened, knowing they did it to try and throw the creature off of their scent. She hoped it would work. She pressed herself against her brother, their arms wrapped around each other. Whatever happened, she didn't want them to separate.

Not like — their parents . . . 

Tears slipped down her muddy cheeks, and she willed her cries to be quiet. She silently cried, hearing the thing hunting them outside. It had arrived at the cave, having tracked their trail there. It sniffed the cave, and she'd heard it growling. It was the deepest, darkest growl she'd ever heard. It sent pure fear straight to her heart, and made her knees weak. If she'd been standing, then she certainly would have fallen. 

It shrieked, the noise echoing all throughout the cave. Delilah wanted to cover her ears, but chose against moving. She wouldn't let the beast draw her out. She closed her eyes, and prayed for it to go away. She heard it scenting the air one more time, before the sound of it retreating met her ears. Heavy footfalls, leaving the area . . . 

Tears, this time filled with relief, rolled down Delilah's face. But she knew they weren't safe. Not yet. It could be letting them gain hope, only to crush it. As soon as they'd leave that cave, she feared it'd pounce upon them in an ambush. Crushing them and killing them and eating them — she steeled herself. She had to keep herself together. 

She didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days even, and she wouldn't know. She remained still, as limp as a corpse, hoping the thing would lose interest and leave her and her brother alone. She just wanted to go home; she missed her mother and father. She missed their house. She missed her friends. She missed their dog which they'd let their neighbors babysit. 

She missed — the feeling of safety. 

Bad things happened in the world. Bad things happened to people. Things went wrong, things turned sour when they weren't supposed to. But not to them. Not to them! It wasn't supposed to happen to her parents, or her, or her brother. It wasn't supposed to happen to anyone she knew. No, it was meant to happen to some stranger, someone she didn't know — so she could feel secure. So she could know, she could be safe . . . 

But that was all gone, now. 

Eventually, Drew gently shook her. She looked up at him, and he reached blindly out to her. His hand brushed against her damp cheek, cradling it. She leaned into him, and he hugged her. He squeezed, and she muffled her sobs. He wiped away her tears, and he sighed. When he spoke, it was barely audible. She had to strain herself to understand.

"I think — it's gone." 

"What was that?" Delilah used the same tone her brother did, so she felt she was barely speaking at all — more so mouthing words. He hesitated. If anyone could know what had attacked them, surely it should be him. He was smart. Everyone knew that. He had to know. She waited expectantly for an answer — for closure. She had to know. 

"I don't know," Drew admitted. 

Delilah felt like a weight had crushed her. She was trembling again, her hands around her brother shaking like a leaf in the wind. "What do you think it was?" She breathed. "I don't — I don't know," Drew gasped. "I've never seen anything like it. I was barely focused on it. I was just — concentrated on keeping you and me alive, Delilah . . . It doesn't matter what's attacking us, all that matters is that we escape it and survive." 

"But if we know what it is — maybe it has weaknesses? Maybe it's like a . . . A T. Rex? Can't see us if we don't move. Or maybe it's sensitive to light. Or noise. Or— I don't know. But I'm scared." She sniffled. "First of all," Drew mumbled, "A T. Rex can see you if you don't move. Second of all, I don't think we'll ever find out its weaknesses. I don't even know if it has any. What did it look like to you, Delilah? Fucking invincible."

"It has to be weak to something," Delilah argued. "Fire. Bullets." She gulped. "But we don't have a gun. Dad — Dad has it. He didn't trust us with a weapon." She wiped her eyes. "Yeah, well, I still have my pocketknife he doesn't know about. But that is going to do jack shit against something like that," Drew said, and she knew he was right . . . 

Her mind flashed back to the severed leg. She tried to remember the clothing on it, but all she could picture was blood and tissue and gore. She shivered, and decided to speak up. "Drew — I saw . . . What the thing did. It threw something at the tent. And it—it was a leg. A severed leg. What if it — what if it was Mom's? Or Dad's? It looked fresh."

"Stop," Drew hissed. "Stop, Delilah. Don't think like that." 

She went quiet, and her brother tightened his grasp on her. She leaned into him, sniffling, and he stroked her hair. "We'll find them," he promised. "And we can get out of here. I promise." It was a weak promise to make. One he couldn't guarantee to keep. But still, Delilah didn't point that out to him, and instead appreciated his effort.

She hugged him, and felt exhaustion seizing her. She felt like passing out, and Drew sensed her tiredness. "Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'll keep watch." She nodded mutely. She trusted him on this — he'd stay attentive. He was much more observant than her even on her good days, so with her being this tired; she wouldn't be of use. 

She fell asleep, and spiraled into nightmares. 

━━━━━━━━💀━━━━━━━━

"You ride a bike like this," Drew was saying, but Delilah was barely paying attention. She was six, and he was eight — not that much of a difference. Two years; but he still acted like he knew everything. And it annoyed her! She pouted, and huffed. "I know how to ride a bike," she said with annoyance as Drew rode around in front of her, showing off on his bike with no training wheels. 

"But not without training wheels," he retorted smugly. He grinned, and she pouted further. "Just teach me how!" She whined. "Okay, okay. Stop pouting," Drew grumbled, getting off his bike and gesturing Delilah over. She scampered towards him, looking indignant. "I wasn't even pouting!" 

"Yeah, sure." Drew snickered, and steadied his bike as Delilah climbed onto it. She adjusted herself, and found that the seat was way too high. Drew pulled a lever down, and she yelped as she fell. She was lower now, and could actually properly reach the handlebars and pedals. She smiled happily, glancing back at Drew. "I'm ready," she said eagerly. "Okay." Drew seemed skeptical. "Be careful. Remember, it's just like riding a bike with training wheels, you just don't have extra support. Keep yourself balanced, and watch where you're going. Steer with the bars like usual, and slam down on the pedals for the breaks. As long as you don't go too harshly, then you shouldn't go flying off . . ." 

She nodded. "Okay." She hadn't properly understood half of that, but got the gist of things mostly. She felt Drew's hands on her back, and she bit back her smile. He pushed her, and the bike was sent forward. She pressed her feet down against the pedals, and the bike rolled into motion. She tried echoing what Drew had done, steering with the handlebars and keeping herself balanced. She avoided any obstacles in her way, and stayed upright far longer than she had expected herself to.

"I'm doing it!" She cheered. 

She glanced back, and saw Drew grinning. He waved happily at her, and she giggled. His smile suddenly fell, and she frowned. That was when Drew looked up, and he screamed. Slim, veiny hands with long claws reached out to him from the trees, grabbing onto his head and lifting him upwards. 

Delilah screamed, crashing the bike and falling. She got up, ignoring her bleeding arms and legs and limping forward. "Drew!" She shrieked. "Drew!" He reached out to her, but the thing suddenly yanked, and with a yell Drew was gone. "Drew!" Delilah screamed louder, anguish filling her. 

"Drew—"

"Delilah." 

Her eyes flew open, tears streaming down her cheeks. Drew was staring at her with worry, and he wiped away her tears tenderly. "What happened? Are you okay?" He asked worriedly. "I-I had a nightmare," Delilah whispered. "I-it was about you . . ."

"About me?" Drew's forehead creased with surprise. "What did I do?" Delilah shook her head, hiccuping. "Nothing. You didn't do anything. It did something to you," she whimpered. "It took you, and I was powerless to stop it." Her shoulders slumped, her expression downcast, and Drew frowned. "Hey," he said softly, lifting her chin up. "That was just a nightmare. It's not reality. I promise, we're going to get out of here." 

She smiled, but it was lopsided and it didn't reach her eyes. She looked away, and saw the glimmering of daylight beginning to seep into the cave. "I slept for that long?" She whispered. "How . . . ? Drew, why didn't you wake me? You need sleep, too." She looked over at him anxiously, and he waved her concerns off. "You know me. I can get only four hours of sleep, and still be hyper and functioning. You need your rest more." 

She frowned, but didn't argue about it anymore. She looked away, and stood up. Her body was sore and aching, probably from running so much and feeling such pure fear. She pushed hair from her face, and turned towards Drew. "We should start moving."

Drew nodded, climbing to his feet. "I know," he said. "We can't just stay stuck here forever. We still need to find Mom and Dad." Glancing away, Delilah swallowed. "What if it's out there — waiting for us? Waiting to ambush us?" The question hung heavy in the air, something neither of them could answer, not until the moment came.

"We'll just have to pray that it's not," Drew answered breezily. "That's all we can do." He extended a hand, and Delilah helped him up. "If it is out there waiting for us — we run. We run, as fast and as far as we can. And we don't stop. Not until we lose it . . ." 

Delilah nodded solemnly. Hand-in-hand, the siblings made their way outside. Stepping into the sunshine, Delilah looked above her. There were no birds in the trees. No sign of life. She glanced all around, scanning for the creature — but she couldn't see it. She didn't allow her guard to be let down, though, and she followed after Drew as he broke out into a sprint. They left the area hurriedly, and Delilah continued to glance back. 

Nothing was there . . . 

She felt her stomach grumbling, the food she'd eaten in the night not sating her appetite long enough. Of course, it'd probably been quite a few hours since she'd eaten last, but she knew she had to have patience. They had to conserve their rations. She looked at the bag upon her brother's shoulders, and wondered about how heavy it was.

"Do you want me to carry it?" She asked quietly. He glanced over at her, and shook his head. "No," he said, waving her off. "It's fine. It'll just slow you down." She knew he was right, so she didn't protest. She didn't need them getting attacked, and her falling behind just because she had a backpack on. It'd cost her brother his life, too, because she knew that if she faltered he'd go back for her. That was just — just how he was . . . 

Sighing, Delilah wiped sweat from her brow. It glistened on her face, and her brother had been right. As dawn broke out, it really was getting warmer. She wondered if the thing pursuing them only emerged during the night — certainly it had to be nocturnal. They hadn't seen any traces of it otherwise. Yet still, she didn't want to gain any hope. 

They began walking upwards, over the crest of a hill. Delilah trusted that Drew at least had somewhat of an idea of where they were going. He had to be leading them back towards their camp, and then from there, to the car. She had faith that he could rescue them and along the way, find their parents. It wouldn't be too late, not for any of them.

She wasn't looking forward to arriving back at the tent. She knew that severed leg would still be there, and she'd get a closer look at it. What if it matched the pants and shoes of her father? Or her mother? The reality of the situation hung heavy above her, like a storm cloud that wouldn't go away. She knew Drew refused to believe the possibility of that leg being one of their parents' — and she wanted to, too, so bad . . . 

But she couldn't control the inklings of grief and horror that filled her whenever she thought about that beast and her missing parents, and that cut-off leg. She couldn't. 

"Hey!" Drew spoke up, actually exclaimed something for the first time in a while. There was hope in his voice, and that sparked Delilah's interest. She perked up like a dog, looking around curiously. "What is it?" She asked, and Drew pointed. "Over there! It's Dad's shoe! Maybe he lost it? And we're on his trail." He sounded eager. 

"Drew . . ." Delilah was hesitant, but she followed after her brother as he ran down the hill, towards the thicker parts of the forest. She nearly tripped trying to keep up with him. He was in such a hurry. She could understand why. He was hopeful, and she didn't want to crush that hope. Usually he was the pessimistic one amongst them, but this time, she was. Still, she tried to match his hope and his enthusiasm; and failed. 

When they reached the shoe, Delilah was panting and Drew looked like he'd barely broken a sweat. Of course; he did play football and a handful of other sports, after all. He picked up the shoe, turning it over eagerly. His expression faltered when he saw something red staining the fabric of the shoe and laces. He dropped it, turning away. 

"They came this way," he said, his voice more somber. 

Delilah was shaking again, staring at the blood on the shoe. She reached out, grabbing Drew's hand again. "Yeah," she whispered meekly. She glanced over her shoulder, and shivered. "Let's go," she urged. Drew didn't have to be told twice. He continued walking, and she trailed after him, pressing up against his side like a terrified rabbit. 

They continued on for a while, Drew finding bits and pieces of clothes and belongings of their father, and a few of their mother. Each discovery egged him on further, but Delilah couldn't help but feel doubtful. Why was everything splayed out so grandly for them? Suspicion coursed through her, and her brow furrowed. She didn't understand. 

It seemed too — theatric. 

They edged down a slope into a clearing, and Delilah gagged. "Ugh!" She squeaked, plugging her nose and coughing. "What is that?" She asked, horrified. A terrible smell had filled the area, plaguing the air and filling her with a sense of revulsion. Her lip curled in disgust, and she breathed through her mouth. It smelled like rotten food . . . 

Flies buzzed around the clearing as Drew pushed forcefully past foliage and branches and thorns, which scraped and cut his flesh. Delilah was frightened by his lack of answer, trailing after him. She bit down on her lip again, re-opening the cut she'd made earlier. She tasted blood, and she shuddered, the metallic tang chilling her. 

When the vegetation finally thinned, Drew stumbled out into an open expanse of grass, Delilah right behind him. Nothing was there. But the stench of rotting and the flies buzzing and humming around were still present. Frowning, Delilah tugged on Drew's hand. "I don't like this," she said. "I think — I think we should go, Drew . . ." 

Drew glanced back at her. "This is our chance," he insisted. "Our parents, we have followed their trail all the way here. You can't just want to turn back now. Not when we're so close. I know it's risky, but I need — I need closure. I need to see them. Dead or alive." He finally voiced what was hanging between them; their parents being dead. 

"And if they're alive, then I'm getting us all out of here, like I promised." 

Tears threatened to break past Delilah's eyes. She blinked them away, nodding somberly. "Okay," she whispered. She followed after Drew as he headed towards the stench of rot. They were nearing it, the scent nearly crippling and making her want to vomit, when they heard something. Both of their heads snapped around like birds. 

"Kids . . . ? Is that you?" 

"It's us! It's your parents!"

Drew went to run towards the sound, but Delilah's grasp on his hand didn't falter, and she yanked him back. "Drew, stop," she whispered. "I don't trust it!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she stifled a sob. Her chest felt like it was going to burst, and she didn't know how to contain her emotions. But one thing she was certain of, was—

The voices calling out to her and her brother weren't their Mom and Dad. 

"What do you mean?" Drew rounded on her accusingly. "It's them! Mom and Dad! How can you not trust them?" He glared at her, and her resolve crumbled. She felt guilty, and she hesitantly trailed after Drew as he tugged her angrily towards the calling of their parents. Still, Delilah couldn't shake the guttural feeling that . . . 

Something was just wrong. 

The voices were getting closer, growing louder — they were right upon them, now. Drew whipped past an overlooking branch, stepping into a smaller clearing than the one before. Like that one, it was empty. Delilah felt her stomach churning. The voices had stopped, but the stench that had made her want to vomit was still ever-so-present.

"There you are, kids." 

A chill rippled up Delilah's spine, and all the hairs on her body stood up at once. The voice of her mother came from above her. She slowly looked up, into the trees, at the same time Drew did. Her grip on her brother's hand was so tight, she thought she might break his hand. She didn't want to ever let go — she felt herself shaking terribly. 

There was the creature. It was curled up on a branch, like a cat, and its hideous skull was staring down at them. Yellow eyes shone almost mockingly at them. Worst of all, it had something gripped tightly in its hands. Slim, and veiny, with long deadly claws. 

At the end of those claws, was their mother's head. 

Delilah screamed, a sound filled with complete grief and anguish. She felt her legs give out, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks. Her mother's face was splattered with blood, and one eye hung loosely, attached to her face simply by a single strand of flesh. It dangled in the breeze, a sickening sight. Her mother's mouth was parted, echoing in a silent scream that neither sibling could hear. The stump of her mother's head still dripped blood, and she could see bone and marrow and sinew and tissue and she— 

"What's the matter?" The beast spoke with her mother's voice, echoing it completely. It sounded flawless, a perfect replication. If not for the fact that deep internal instincts whispered that something about it was just twisted, marred with the darkest intents. 

Drew grabbed onto her with force, and yanked her away. 

They started running, and she tumbled after him. She had been ripped to her feet, but she could barely move. Thinking her mother was dead was one thing. Knowing her mother was dead, was another thing. But seeing her mother dead was something else. 

She wanted to blame Drew for dragging them here. But she couldn't. She just couldn't. He had wanted clarity, and he'd bitterly gotten it. That only left their father, but deep down Delilah knew he was dead, too. He was gone, and they were powerless to have stopped it. They were powerless to do anything. They really were going to die here . . . 

"Hurry up," Delilah had called out, leaning against a log. "I'm starving." Her mother had smiled at her, patting her head affectionately. "When are you ever not hungry?" She'd replied playfully. Delilah had stuck her tongue out at her mother, who'd gently whacked her shoulder. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies." Her mother had kissed her head fleetingly, and then was walking off into the trees. Their father, however, had lingered behind. He looked over at Drew, past Delilah. "If anything happens, protect her," he'd said. "I don't think it will, but just in case. Have each other's back." He'd smiled at them, waved at them both, and promised he'd be back before the night fell.

She hadn't even told them I love you. 

And they were gone . . .

She felt devastated. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to react. She could only feel crippling sadness. It filled her up to the brim, to the point of where she felt she was going to burst. She cupped the side of her face in her free palm, and hiccuped. Drew kept tugging her along, and she followed him blindly, feeling dizzy. 

He ran past something that Delilah didn't notice, but he did. A mound of clothes and flesh, half-obscured by bushes and foliage — but he recognized the clothes, the floral shirt and cargo shorts. Drew felt his stomach churning, like he was going to be sick. He felt his throat closing up, and it was hard to breathe. His heart was dropping hard.

He didn't say anything about finding their father's dead body. 

He didn't point it out to Delilah. There wasn't enough time to investigate. There wasn't — it wasn't worth investigating. Drew didn't want to expose Delilah to those horrors again. He just wanted the best for his sister. He just sought to protect her . . . 

Running faster, Delilah fought against the headache throbbing at her temples. Drew led her the whole way, and she followed loyally after him. She could hear the monster behind them, chasing them. She didn't think they were outrunning it. Not for long, at least. She thought it was letting them get ahead — a cat, toying with some mice . . . 

Delilah was beginning to grow tired. Too tired. Her limbs were aching and worn-down. She didn't know if she could keep going. Every bone in her body protested against her movements. Her brain protested against her movements. She wanted to curl up, she wanted to lie down and grieve. She wanted to lie down — and die. Just let herself go. 

Glancing over at Drew, she knew she couldn't just do that. 

She had to be strong, if not for her parents anymore, if not for herself, then for him. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and they appeared onto a ridge, whipping past undergrowth. Delilah grabbed onto Drew's hand, yanking him back just in time. The two siblings looked out, and realized they'd gotten themselves nicely cornered. 

A cliff spiraled out below them. Peering over the edge, Delilah realized this wasn't just any cliff. Past the ringing in her ears, she could hear the rushing and falling of water. It was a waterfall. She looked over at Drew — how hadn't he heard? He usually was so observant. But he looked just as tired and defeated as her. She felt sympathy tug at her heart, and she leaned against him. Maybe they should just jump over the cliff together.

She was going to suggest it to him, when the monster dropped down from the trees. It landed with eerie grace on two legs, standing straight. It was tall, maybe seven or eight feet. Possibly higher. She wasn't good with measurements. Its arms were slim, like its hands, but she could glimpse muscles against the skinny frame. It was clearly strong. 

It examined them, and she thought it seemed contempt. It was intelligent. She knew that. It had been the one to scatter her father's shoe and her parents' belongings everywhere, as a trail. It was a trap. It had mimicked her family's voices. It had manipulated them like they were nothing more than naïve children. But; weren't they?

She tried placing herself in front of Drew, but he shoved her back. She frowned, but he didn't speak. Neither did she. She remained perfectly still, and so did he. The creature edged towards them, head bobbing back and forth, and it bared its humongous fangs. 

Delilah twitched, and that's when it sprang. 

She shoved Drew over, so forcefully she didn't even realize she was doing it. He yelped as he was tossed to the side, and fell to the ground with a thud. She jerked back in sync with him, just barely avoiding being torn to shreds. A claw scratched across her arm which she held up to protect her face, and she cried out with pain. Blood sprayed, and she watched it fly. Drew cried out, screaming for his sister — she drowned him out. 

"Come for me, bastard," she snarled, flinging her arms out challengingly. 

The monster lunged for her again, and she ducked, hurling her exhausted body forward. She was using the anger she felt, for her parents . . . She was using it to keep going. Adrenaline surged through her, and she panted, sweat glistening on her forehead. She watched as the monster howled that sinister sound, and it tumbled. 

She kicked out at it with as much force as she could muster, dealing the final blow. The creature fell, spiraling down the side of the cliff — but it wouldn't go without a fight. It was angry, frustrated for being outwitted and even outpaced by someone as tired and mortal as a teenager like Delilah. She could feel its simmering rage, she could feel it. 

Its claws dug into her legs, pulling her down. It tried climbing back up, using her body as leverage, but Drew tossed his knife at it — it sunk straight into the creature's skull, and it tossed its head around, making a screech that sounded more irritated than anything. Black blood flew out from the wound, and it slipped. Delilah screamed with pain as its claws made deep gouges across her body, feeling tears stream past her eyes.

The thing was now hanging limply by her foot, growling and snarling with anger. It howled, and Drew appeared at the top of the cliff-face. "Give me your hand!" He cried. He extended his own out to her. Delilah's nails, dug deep into the earth, didn't budge. 

She looked up at Drew, and smiled sadly. Her face was strained with pain and sadness, but she knew what she had to do. She felt bad for her brother, but nothing could be changed now. She'd made her decision, and she'd managed to potentially bring this beast down with her. That was the greatest victory she could have ever achieved . . . 

She knew he hadn't kept his promise. He'd sworn left and right they'd both be getting out of this, but there could only be one who'd make it out, now. He was the sole survivor. The 'final girl of horror movies' as they'd like to joke about. She shook her head, and sighed softly. "You know — I can't give you my hand," she said, voice quiet. 

"Yes you can!" Drew cried, his voice desperate. "Give me your fucking hand, Delilah!" He screamed. He looked so broken, begging her to come back to him. She felt her heart shattering for him, but she knew he could recover once this was all over . . . 

It would take a while, but Drew was tough. Tougher than her. He could move on from their parents. He could move on for her. She wished she could be there to help him heal and regrow, and fix his trauma. She wished — she could fix herself. She wished she could get help like Drew would. But she could sacrifice herself to ensure he lived.

A hero's death sounded pretty idealistic. 

Better than the usual ones teenagers had nowadays, right? Dying to suicide, drugs, murders, car accidents. She wouldn't be going out the normal, easy way. She was going down with a bang. With a monster. She wondered if people would ever believe Drew. They'd probably call him insane, if they ever heard what had happened on this trip. 

This damned trip. 

"Do you want to bring this thing up here with me?" Delilah asked tiredly. She cried with pain as the creature's claws dug deeper into her leg. It would probably sever it, but her leg was the only thing keeping it from falling. She was grateful for that. She could feel it trying to climb up her again; she was afraid it'd start trying to run across her. Her body was too small, though. She was too tiny and it was too big, so any leverage it trained to gain was pointless. She'd just go tumbling down if it even tried. 

"If it means saving you, yes," Drew panted. "I promised." His voice broke, and she smiled. "I know, Drew. But so did Dad. Promises aren't always kept. They're made to be broken. Haven't you ever heard of that?" She glanced down. Their time was slim. 

She looked back up. "Stop stalling. Even if I got up—" she whimpered with pain as her wounds stung, her leg and whole body burning like it was on fire. "I'd bleed out." Drew shook his head in denial. "No, no, no! Stop! Stop, just listen to me, let me help you!" He yelled frantically. "I'm supposed to protect you! Dad told me to protect you!" 

"And you did," she answered honestly. "So let me do the protecting, now." 

This was taking too long; the creature was beginning to grow restless. What if it tried to jump back onto the cliff? She glanced back down at it. It was staring at her, yellow eyes glowing ominously as if it could read her thoughts. It tilted its head, and she knew she had to cut things off, now. If she didn't, then both her and Drew would die. 

"I love you," she said. "Don't blame yourself, okay?"

She let her grip slacken, go loose, and she felt herself slipping. Her nails let go of the soil, and she saw Drew running forward. "Delilah!" He screamed. His hand flung out, trying to grab her as she fell — but he wasn't able to. The creature released Delilah as well with a screech, its howl echoing with Drew's scream into a chaotic, pained chorus. 

Delilah seemed to fall in slow motion. Her hair fanned out around her as she fell, and when she toppled, Drew saw the severity of her wounds. All over her body, long gashes tearing through her clothes. It broke him to see her like that. His mother, his father — it had hurt. But her. This wasn't supposed to happen to her, not her, not her.

Not his little sister. 

She looked eerily angelic as she fell, a sad smile on her face as she hit the water. The connection would have probably broken her neck, if not — she probably would drown. She didn't know how to swim. He tangled his fingers through his hair, yanking and tugging forcefully, ripping out chunks. He fell to his knees and screamed, louder and louder. He'd lost everything. Everything. He'd lost everything on this one fucking trip.

Tears poured down his cheeks freely, and he sobbed. He was taught not to cry by his father, not to show weakness. To be strong, a leader. But he couldn't — he couldn't stay strong anymore. Who was there to stay strong for? No one but himself. And he hated himself. He slammed his hands down on the dirt, his sobs ripping through the night. 

He was alone, now.

━━━━━━━━💀━━━━━━━━

Drew found the keys to the car within his father's corpse. 

His father's throat had been ripped out, and his scalp nearly completely removed. His intestines had been spilling from a clean tear throughout his stomach and abdomen. His right leg was torn off completely, confirming Delilah's previous suspicions . . . Blood splattered almost every inch of him, fallen in the grass like a collapsed soldier. 

Drew had closed his father's opened eyes, the last remnants of fear frozen within them. He'd fished through his father's pockets, feeling like a disrespectful thief. He'd stayed with his father's corpse for a few moments after finding him, and he'd whispered that he'd failed him. He'd failed his mother. But most of all, he'd failed—

Delilah. 

Drew had walked, all day and towards the evening and night. He wandered blindly through the forest, searching for the car — he was desperate. But even when he thought he stumbled onto the exact same gravel path he knew they'd driven down first coming here — the car was gone. Had someone stolen it? Had someone taken the car?

He felt defeat course through him. 

He'd never get out of these woods, would he . . . ? 

He looked at what he was wearing. Dark blue jeans. A black shirt and heavy jacket. Huge shoes. He brushed his hair from his face, trembling slightly. He chuckled grimly, looking up at the sky. These clothes were what he'd be buried in, wouldn't they . . . ?

He tugged at his hair, and let out a laugh. He was so hungry. He'd gone back to the campsite, and was hanging around there most of the time. He'd tried to ignore the severed leg, which had been picked apart by animals. He'd eaten all of his food, and it was gone. He'd tried hunting, but hadn't been successful. His knife was gone, taken over the side of the cliff with the monster. He still didn't know what the hell it was. 

He was just — so hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :D stay tuned for the two sequels ;)


End file.
